Friday, November 19, 2010

Sketches of Vancouver

I have decided to BEGIN with the asides this time and tell the main story after that. Okay so, this post is mainly about when I was having obvious mental delusions about what was reality and what was not. This isn't the only time I have "freaked" out, though it hasn't happened often. Just quickly I want to say that you may read this and think "wow, this totally isn't a harsh freak out" but it actually was. Enough so that it stayed with me. The other times that I lost my grip was when one time I had been up for days on speed and were convinced that my friends in the other room were planning a birthday party and were not going to invite me because I was too sketchy (which I wasn't but sleep deprivation plays tricks with your mind man...). Another time I remember (and I may have mentioned this in a previous post) was a time when I swore I could hear my "boyfriend" (a guy that I had been seeing on and off, he was date and wouldn't leave me alone) through a vent in my friend's hotel room talking and plotting how they were going to lure me into another room and murder me. Lastly, I will mention that I have not done much grammar or spell checking here - no time, I am a very important person you know....

Where was I??? Oh right, I was going to talk about a night way back that took place around Cambie and 41st. It starts the same as most of the other posts: I was on the stroll, it seems to me that it was a Friday or Saturday night (it's always easier to make money on weekends!! Yay!) - and I was in need of dope. I usually worked all the time, regardless if I had any dope or not already, if I was downtown, I was for sale.

I was in the hood, walking like I would, and a truck pulled up. Unassuming,
casual, smallish truck, no extended cab just room for the driver and one other person, and this night it was me that was the other person.

Immediately after getting in I could see this guy was wasted. He was very drunk. Was this a deterrent for me? No. His drinking and driving was not a problem for me. I wasn't worried about my own mortality, I faced it everyday, nor was I even the slightest concerned for the safety of the public. Sorry, but I just wasn't. I had been with drunk guys before, it happens. Most of the time it just makes them unable to "finish" or they are mildly unreasonable, big deal. And actually I did see this one girl get into this drunk guy's car one was a red convertible and the guy picked up the girl and then took a corner real fast. Moments later I rounded the same bend and saw that right after they had sped around the turn the idiot drunk driver had put his shiny new car around a telephone pole. Awwww, poor him. No one was inured but I bet she was pissed off. Now she had to go find a new date. He would be good for no money.

So random guy picks me up in his truck and asks me if I know where he can get late night off sales. No, i told him except I sort of knew about this guy that ran one of the shady downtown bars that sort of sells (booze) from the hotel lobby. We drive down there and he bought some whiskey or something else equally disgusting. After this we were trying to think where we can go and he decides on Queen Elizabeth park. Now, since having sex in public places was my business I would normally have vetoed this suggestion but it was very late when this guy had picked me up, it was close to dawn and I figured by the time we drove there the sun would be pretty much up. Public parks like this one have hours usually ranging from 6 or 7 am until 10 at night but there is really no enforcing of these daytime hours. Police do cruise however but at least if it is light outside a car is not so obvious, unlike at night when headlights and the cover of darkness can give off a suspicious vibe to any officers or dogooder civilians that happen go by. So we get to the park, I think we did..I mean, I have been there lots of times but it seemed to me we were on the outskirts of it. We were within distance of residential homes so yeah. Anyways, moving on.

I had dope on me, it was crack cocaine and he was not keen on the idea of me smoking it in his new truck. He could be pissed drunk on stinky wild turkey but the scent of crack cocaine (which is really isn't a bad smell, it is sort of sweet if I am to be honest and it is definitely not a smell that sticks around) in his truck was not going to happen. I had to get out of the truck, do my toke and then get back in for whatever sexual favour he had requested, I have no idea what that was when I think back and it isn't even important.

He was sort of a sketchy guy. He was average, fairly attractive, nondescript really. He was sort of unstable - being that he was drunk and I guess that's what caused him to freak when he saw me doing a toke.... I did my toke and by the time I had started to exhale he had thrown my bag out of the driver's side door and squealed away. I was like "whaaaa???". I had been up for a few days and having just exhaled a major crack hoot in combination with his unexpected bail on me I started tripping. Hard. Usually, I could be counted on for not losing my sh*t in most situation but on this occasion I lost it. I assumed he was going to hunt me down and try to kill me since I had his money and hadn't performed any sexual act with/to him. I suddenly found myself running for my life. Don't ask me why I came to the conclusion because I can't tell you. All I know is I was terrified and was running.

He had driven off but then after I had grabbed my bag he had come to screeching halt and violently turned his truck around and came speeding back in my direction. Naturally I thought he was trying to run me over. I was having serious mental delusions. I ended up running into some one's open backyard and hid behind their garbage cans. And as I watched him cruising and trying to find me I ran from one backyard to the next hiding and hoping no one would call the police because I was lurking on their property. Eventually he gave up and took off and I was alone, it was early A.M and I was very far from downtown.

I have always said that no matter where you are, a girl can get a date, and usually this is true. But Cambie St on a busy morning is not a breeding ground for men cruising to pick up a prostitute. Mostly people were on their way to work and pulling over on a busy street like that is not something done casually. So I was left to hitchhike. I had the money he had given me but I had no change for the bus and there was no stores (to get change) open at that time. It was humiliating, I HATED being out when people were going to work plus I had anxiety at whether or not this crazy man was going to come back to murder me - thought it was fabulous of him to chuck my bag out his truck before he took off though, I will give him that.

Hitchhiking was never something I have liked to do (except for on Kingsway in the middle of the night, it is EASY to get a ride on that road). I felt like I was so obviously a drug addicted prostitute so who in their right mind would stop to give ME a ride? Well, the only person that did was a cab driver. Sweet and nice cab driver. He was headed in my direction anyways and my obvious look of distress and fear must have been what made him stop for me. And no, he wasn't like other cab drivers I knew, he didn't expect a hummer for a ride.

This was just another tale of why drugs are bad and why you should never get in a car with a drunk driver.